


Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning

by rainbowshoes



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2019 [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Automail, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), Father Cornello is mentioned, Gen, Human Transmutation, Liore, Off screen, Philosopher's Stone(s), Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, allusions to character deaths, tony is dying because of the arc reactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/pseuds/rainbowshoes
Summary: “Heard you fixed automail.”“Best in the East,” Tony said, not a bit arrogant. He knew he was good at what he did, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.For the Tony Stark Bingo 2019K4: Picture of Stark Industries





	Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning

When the bell chimed over the door, Tony sighed just a little. He put down his tools and shoved the automail leg he'd been redesigning away from the edge of the table. No sense in letting Dummy knock it off the ledge and break it when it wasn't even finished yet. He made his way from the crowded back area of his shop to the front where the storefront was located. 

“Hi, sorry,” Tony said, waving one hand lazily. “What do you need?”

The man at the front of the store, still hovering awkwardly by the door, was tall and broad. He was quiet, too, preferring to stare Tony down for an endless few minutes before finally speaking. “Heard you fixed automail.”

“Best in the East,” Tony said, not a bit arrogant. He knew he was good at what he did, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. “What did you need specifically?”

The man used only one hand to unclasp the poncho around his shoulders. He tugged it to the right until it fell, gathered in the crook of his arm. He tugged up the sleeve of his black shirt to reveal a sleek, automail arm. “It's busted. Has been for a while.”

“All right, well come on back,” Tony said. “Don't have anything else major planned for the day, so it shouldn't be a problem to get that off so I can take a look at it.” Most normal wear and tear could be fixed fairly simply, but he didn't like to do repairs while the limbs were still attached to people. It made things a little too personal, sometimes. 

The man followed Tony to the backroom. Tony cleared off a chair for him and left him to struggle with his shirt on his own. He knew how people got. If he wanted help, he'd ask for it. So Tony walked to a different part of his shop to find the tool he needed to disconnect the arm, instead, grabbing the entire kit when he realized he had no idea where the damn thing was attached. 

By the time he made it back, the man was shirtless. The arm went clear up to his shoulder. The connection plate had been installed badly, it looked like. There were plenty of scars around it, anyway. Tony didn't stare. He knew better, after being in this line of work for so long and after dealing with his own scars for so many years. He sat the kit on a nearby table and took a quick look at the connection. It took him only a moment to find the right tool. 

“This might hurt,” Tony said idly as he inserted the bar into the slot. He jerked up, hard, and the connection severed. The man didn't so much as flinch. That was new. Tony didn't let his surprise show as he carefully lifted the arm - it was damn heavy, too, he noticed - and hauled it over to a different table to work on later. 

“Thanks,” the man said softly. 

“Might want to look into getting a newer model,” Tony said. “They're lighter, more durable. Well. Mine are, anyway.” He shrugged. “Not cheap, but they're worth it.” 

“I like steel,” the man said. “Easier to work with.” 

Tony paused, his fingers stopping their errant dancing they did so often on their own that he rarely noticed the movement. “Work with how?”

“Transmutation,” the man answered.

“You're a state alchemist, then?” Tony asked. 

The man smirked. “Not anymore.” He gestured at his missing arm. “There's more than one price to pay for human transmutation.” 

“Don't I know it,” Tony muttered darkly as he turned away from the man and stared down at the full steel limb. No fucking wonder it was so heavy. He heard the man suck in a breath. “And before you ask, no, it didn't work, and no, I don't plan to try again.” 

“What was your sacrifice?” the man asked, all emotion gone from his voice. 

Tony turned and looked at him, stared at the brutal scars on his arm under the connection plate. He slowly lifted his shirt to reveal the center of his chest and the softly glowing blue light that kept him alive. “My heart,” he said. The man didn't react at all. “Had this nearby. It's an arc reactor. I was experimenting with it, trying to create a new form of electricity. It keeps me alive.”

“Who?” he asked. 

“My mother,” Tony answered. “And you?”

“My best friend,” he said. “Call me Bucky.”

“Tony Stark.” Tony turned to look at the arm and grabbed a screwdriver to pry loose the cover. There was plenty of dust and old oil dried in the gears and inner workings, but as he'd suspected, it looked like an easy fix. “This shouldn't take too long. Feel free to wander around the shop or head across the street. Clint might be a disaster of a human being, but he makes good food, and the liquor won't kill you.” 

Bucky was silent for a while, but Tony could hear him shuffling around as he dressed himself. Finally, he asked, “You ever heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Who hasn't?”

Bucky didn't say anything else, seemed to sense that Tony knew more and was refusing to speak. Tony heard his heavy, slightly off balance tread as he made his way across the wooden floors, away from the back room and back toward the front of the store. Tony sighed and focused on cleaning everything first. He didn't want to have that sort of conversation with a stranger. The bell chimed over the door, and he knew Bucky had left.

He was most of the way through replacing all the broken parts when he heard the bell chime over the door again. He put down his tools and grabbed a rag from his pocket to wipe down his hands as he walked out to see who it was. It was a woman who'd dropped off a pocket watch for repairs the day before. Tony grabbed it for her, she paid, and he went back to repairing the arm. 

Stark Industries did a lot of repairs, these days. He hadn't invented anything new in months. He was at a stand still. He hated it, but he didn't quite know what to do about it. He was stagnating here in the East, but he didn't want to go back to Central, either. There were too many memories there. 

He was interrupted three more times with customers. It made him miss Pepper fiercely. She hadn't come with him, though, and he didn't blame her. East City was a dump. She belonged in Central City where she could thrive and conquer. 

When Bucky returned, Tony considered throwing his wrench at him for making him walk away from his work again, but he resisted the temptation. Barely. He just walked to the back again instead, barely staying long enough to register that it was Bucky at all before vanishing once more.

“You ain't stopped, have you?” Bucky asked quietly. 

“Had some people stop in,” Tony said with a shrug. “They had to pick up their things.” The watch, radio, and telephone had all been in perfect working order when he'd returned them. The automail leg, meant for someone out in one of the smaller cities with his own mechanic to attach it, was a brand new design similar to the one on which he was still working. Tony didn't often handle installations himself because most people were physically exhausted for a day or two because of it. 

“You gotta eat,” Bucky said. He put a brown paper bag on the table by Tony's elbow. Tony ignored it. “Tony.”

“Go away,” Tony snipped. “I'll eat when I'm finished. If I have to stop on this again, I'm going to make you wait until tomorrow to get it back.” Bucky sighed and turned, leaving the bag where it was. Tony could hear him shuffling around in the shop out front, but he wasn't concerned. He had the man's arm, after all. 

He eventually dug into the bag and fished out the sandwich waiting for him, eating a few bites between grabbing spare parts for the arm. He was distantly aware that it was late, now, but only because he had been forced to turn on more lights around his workspace. He didn't know what time it was when he finished, only that it was well past dark and that he should have locked up long ago. He vaguely wondered if Bucky had stuck around to wait or if he'd gone to the inn nearby. 

Tony wandered through to the front of the shop and flipped the sign and locked the door. He dumped the cash from the till into a bag, then tossed it into the big, steel safe back in his work area. He gathered up the arm to move it to an area that was at least somewhat more accessible, but then he stopped. 

Bucky was asleep in a chair, propped against the wall with his arms crossed over his lap, like they'd been against his chest at one point but had slipped when he relaxed. Tony sat the arm on a table nearby just loudly enough to wake Bucky with the clatter. He watched as Bucky flinched badly and jerked awake, his eyes wild for a moment until he took in his surroundings and remembered where he was. 

“I'm finished,” Tony announced. “Sorry that took so long. Had a lot of gunk to clear out before I could make the repairs.”

“‘S fine,” Bucky said, using his right hand to brush his long hair back from his face. 

“You want me to attach it now or wait until morning?” Tony asked. 

“Now,” Bucky said. He tugged his shirt off immediately, folding it over his lap. Tony nodded and walked over to him with the arm in his hands. He fit the connecting piece into the slot in Bucky's shoulder and tugged the slim tool to lock it into place from his pocket. 

“Ready?” Tony asked. Bucky nodded stiffly, so Tony pushed down hard to make the connection lock. Bucky cringed visibly this time, but he didn't try to jerk away like some did. Tony pulled the tool free and tossed it over to the table. It landed with a loud clatter that echoed throughout the spacious back room.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, his voice low and gruff. 

“Sure,” Tony said. “It's gonna be twenty thousand.” 

“Christ, you're expensive,” Bucky grumbled, but it was the good-natured grumbling and not the angry kind. 

“Well, you did come to the best,” Tony said with an impish grin. “That leg you saw earlier? It's mostly carbon fiber and aluminum with some steel thrown in. It's a cold-climate version for someone heading up north, and it's gonna run the guy who wants it almost nine million cens.” Bucky's eyebrows went up to his hairline at the cost. “And hey, that isn't even as expensive as some of the combat automail. I had a set run at fifteen million, once. You know Captain Buccaneer up at Briggs?” Bucky nods. “His Mad Bear Grade was my design.”

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered. “Didn't know you were  _ that _ Stark.” He huffs a dry laugh. “Still wouldn't have gone anywhere else, but it would have been nice to know.”

“Well, my name  _ is  _ plastered across the outside of the building,” Tony said with a grin. “Come on.” He jerks his head to the side. “With a job like that, I know you aren't feeling so great. I have a few guest rooms you can choose from if you don't want to make the trip to the inn.” 

“Been enough of a bother,” Bucky said, even as he winced while trying to lift his shirt to get back into it. Tony gave him a flat look. Bucky sighed. “Yeah, and how much is a night gonna cost me?”

“Depends,” Tony said, drawing out the word a bit. “Can you cook?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a nod, though he looked uncertain. “Ain't a chef, and I can't do anything fancy, but yeah.”

“Cool. You make breakfast in the morning and we'll call it even.” Tony held out his hand, his left, and Bucky accepted the handshake with his automail arm. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” He helped haul Bucky up out of the chair and led him over to the staircase at the very back of the big room. Tony flicked on the light as soon as they got to the landing, and the bare hall wasn't quite flooded with light, but at least they could see the doors. “My room is the one on the end,” Tony said, pointing to the right. “The bathroom is the door next to it. All the other rooms are empty and most of them should be made up with clean linens and everything, so take your pick.” 

“Thank you,” Bucky said quietly. He picked the first room he came across that wasn't empty or being used for storage. Tony gave him a tiny wave and continued down to his own room. 

Sleep never came easy for Tony. It never had, and he suspected it never would. He toyed with ideas for new designs in his mind until it finally slowed down long enough for him to sleep for a few hours. He didn't sleep peacefully through the night, but he tried again for more sleep, same as always. He wasn't particularly surprised when he didn't manage to do more than doze fitfully for most of the night. 

Sometime in the early morning hours, Tony must have genuinely fallen asleep once more. He distinctly remembered seeing the grayish tint to the sky outside, anyway. Now, though, he could hear birds and the sun was shining in his face, and he could smell food. Actual food, and it wasn't cold from sitting around too long before he got the chance to eat any of it. 

Tony rolled out of bed and stuffed himself into a pair of worn, stained jeans. He didn't have any clean shirts, so he went downstairs without one. It wasn't like Bucky hadn't seen his chest already, and he even knew why it was there, so hopefully there wouldn't be any awkward conversation over breakfast about it. 

The kitchen was on the bottom floor. It was separated from the workshop area with walls and a door, but Tony had brought far too many of his projects into the kitchen while he was trying to eat and finish something at the same time, so really, there wasn't much of a difference in the spaces anymore other than the kitchen having a place to actually cook and store food. 

Bucky was standing at the stove, also shirtless. He wasn't using his left arm much, which didn't surprise Tony. It probably still ached something awful. Bucky glanced over at him, and his face did a second of complex micro-expressions for a moment before settling on neutrality. 

“I hope you don't mind bacon and eggs,” Bucky said, gesturing to the pan. “You didn't have much else to choose from.” 

“Yeah, I don't eat here too often,” Tony said with a shrug. He walked over to his special-made coffee maker and began to load it with water and ground coffee beans, then he switched it on to wait for it to brew. “But thanks for cooking. The coffee will be done soon.”

“I can make coffee with whole beans and an open fire,” Bucky said with a shrug, “but not with whatever you've got here. They taught me the traditional way back in Ishval.” 

“Damn,” Tony said with a low whistle. “I'd kill to try some of that some day. I've never been out there. I was too busy learning the trade before the war, during, well - I wasn't part of that mess, thankfully. And then after, it was pretty much considered a bad idea for me to try.”

“All dust now, mostly,” Bucky said with a shrug. “There's Ishvalans around, though, and some of them still make coffee their traditional way.” He flipped the bacon in the pan. 

“I've always wanted to go to Xing,” Tony said, propping himself against the counter and snagging a piece of bacon from the plate where Bucky was setting the cooked pieces. “I've heard it's big, but also amazing.” 

Bucky hummed, but he also didn't answer. He put more bacon on the plate, then grabbed the eggs and cracked them into the pan with the bacon grease. Tony grabbed the carafe of coffee and found a couple of mugs for them, filled the mugs, and left one by Bucky's arm on the counter before taking the carafe with him to the table. 

It takes another few minutes for Bucky to finish with the eggs, and then he brings everything over to the table so they can eat. Tony murmurs a compliment and he shovels his third bite into his mouth. Bucky just gives him a wry smile. 

“I heard a rumor about a priest with a philosopher's stone out in Liore,” Bucky says quietly, only after they've finished eating. He looks at Tony. “He performs miracles that make a lot of something out of nothing.”

“That isn't possible,” Tony immediately challenges.

“It is with a philosopher's stone,” Bucky points out. Tony hates to agree, but Bucky is right. “I thought…” He sighs and rubs his hand along his dark-stubbled jaw. “I thought since you know what it's like, you might want to… see. If it's real. It's not far from here. Only a day or so by train.”

Tony doesn't answer at first. He thinks about the shop and what few customers he has. He thinks about the automail he makes for special customers, but Pepper is the one who handles those sales in Central, anyway, and she just mails him what he needs. Rhodey doesn't get the chance to come see him often, and Rhodey would find him wherever he was anyway, so there's no need to worry about that. So… what does he really have here?

“Don't you want to get your body back to the way it was?” Bucky asks quietly, gripping his automail forearm like it personally offends him. 

“Yeah,” Tony whispers, moving his hand to clutch at the arc reactor. He knows it won't last much longer. He's managed to keep the heavy metal poisoning at bay so far, but without any other elements to use for the core, he will die - slowly and painfully - in about a year. He doesn't want to tell Bucky that, though. 

He looks up at Bucky and studies his face. Bucky looks as tired as he feels. “When were you thinking of going?”

“Soon,” Bucky answers softly. “There's a train that leaves out this afternoon.” He offers Tony an awkward smile. “I gotta pay you first, but… well. I don't want to stick around for no reason.”

“Why ask me to come along?” Tony asks. 

Bucky shrugs. “I'm tired of doing this alone, but I haven't met anyone else who has a real reason to want a philosopher's stone without planning to use it for greed or to bring back the dead.” 

Tony shudders. “No. No - I won't do that. Not again. The… that thing wasn't my mother, but I don't want to even try. And I have more money than god, anyway.” Tony shrugs. He stands and drains the last of his mug. “Yeah, all right. I'll come with you. Let me just get some things together and tell Clint to keep an eye on the place for me.” He offers Bucky a shaky smile. Bucky returns it, just as shaky.

Tony dresses quickly and then shoves a few changes of clothes in a bag. He goes down to his shop for a few tools, then he shoves some money from his safe into the bag as well. He'll have to deposit it in the bank at some point, but he doesn't want to bother right now. 

Bucky leaves with him to go to Clint's restaurant. Tony tells Clint only that he'll be gone for a few days, not why and not when to expect him back. Clint doesn't ask questions, simply takes the keys to feed Tony's reclusive cat. 

Out on the street once more, Tony takes a moment to look up at the building he's lived and worked in for the last few years. It's old, crumbling in a few places. The sign with his surname stretches in big, bold, black letters from one edge of the building to the other, with “Industries” written beneath it. He truly likes this building, but he won't miss it. 

He turns to smile at Bucky, just a little, and they set off for the train station. If they hurry, they'll have enough time to grab a bite of lunch before they board. 

Tony figures it might just be time for an adventure. Even if the philosopher's stone is fake, even if he never finds one, at least he'll have  _ lived _ for a year rather than wasting away in his workshop. 


End file.
